


Blood Vessel

by Carola_dl



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Gift Exchange, Smut, Vampires, Victorian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 09:18:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17097845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carola_dl/pseuds/Carola_dl
Summary: She finds dots of blood on her white sheets, but she doesn’t have any wound on her body that would explain them.





	Blood Vessel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gabbiki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabbiki/gifts).



> Christmas gift exchange!
> 
> This is slightly based on Dracula, and therefore, it has the necessary dubious consent that fits this genre so well.
> 
> Gabbiki, I hope you enjoy it! And Merry Christmas!

**BLOOD VESSEL**

_London, 1897._

London is boiling – it always is: sweet and acrid smells mingle in the air, interlacing with the sound of steps, loud conversations and horses neighing. Jane Foster, adorned in rags and dirty hair, moves among the overcrowded multitude, as a rat running through the sewers. She holds tightly the fresh pastry that she has just stolen from an inattentive baker, as if she were afraid that someone would try to pry it out of her fingers. It’s delicious, but she knows it won’t be enough to sate her hunger. It’s been too many days since the last time she ate.

Jane leans on a lamppost and looks around the square, searching for her next victim: someone careless, brave or stupid enough to leave their house with pockets full of money. Her eyes spot a handsome man that exudes the air of arrogance and self-confidence that only the high class possesses. He looks like a prince, if he isn’t one, he should be. His big white-teethed smile and his blue eyes shine with a candor that makes Jane resent him. It’s unfair that the rich folk aren’t only bestowed monetary fortune, but good looks as well.

As soon as Jane finishes her pastry and cleans her sticky fingers in her dress, she starts walking in his direction, sorting the rest of the pedestrians. Some of them push her away with their elbows. Jane doesn’t deviate from her destination and when she finally reaches the beautiful stranger, she brushes her body against his coat and discreetly introduces her hand in his pocket. She touches some coins and a paper that she hopes is a banknote. Swiftly, she takes them out of his pocket and hides them under the fabrics of her skirt.

She doesn’t slow down her walk and continues towards one of the corners of the square, not even bothering to look back at the nobleman, who’s walking away unaware that he has just been robbed. She doesn’t stop walking until she finds a deserted alleyway, one of those dark city corners that only the poorest Londoners dare to step in. She sits against the hard wall, takes out the stolen objects from under her skirt and scatters them on the ground, in front of her.

She smiles when she sees that there are a lot more pounds that she expected, but she feels disappointed when she realizes that the paper isn’t a bank note, just a handwritten piece of paper. Jane puts the coins in her own pocket and, pushed by her curiosity, she grabs the note and moves it closer to her face to read it. She prides herself on her good reading and writing skills, she learned them during her years in the orphanage. She is sure that she would’ve learned French and even Spanish if she had been allowed to stay after her eighteenth birthday.

It looks like a newspaper advertisement, but it is written in an inelegant and messy handwriting, although not completely intelligible. Jane assumes the nobleman was taking it to the local newspaper to have it published. It’s an extremely odd advertisement:

                _WANTED a young FEMALE COMPANION named SIGYN, she will be highly compensated with a monthly salary and all the comforts of a wealthy household._

The note ends suggesting that those interested should seek Thor Odinson at his residence in the indicated address.

“Sigyn.” She mutters to herself. “The rich are getting so exclusive that now they discriminate by name.” She wishes her name was Sigyn so she could answer the advertisement, but the orphanage had given her the plainest name of all: Jane.

The promised salary and comfort tempt Jane and she bites her lip, an idea forming in her head.

“I could be Sigyn. After all, I don’t know what name I was given at birth.” She laughs at her absurd thought, but there is something in it that doesn’t allow her to dismiss it completely. “It will be enough if _he thinks_ my name is Sigyn.” And the advertisement doesn’t ask for any specific traits or even references. She could be as good as any Sigyn, she is sure of that. A name is just a name.

Now, she only needs to find the man again – who she assumes is the Thor Odinson who is mentioned in the note. She knows that he is going to the local newspaper, to get the advertisement published, so she jumps and runs there as fast as she can, using all the shortcuts she knows.

She stops behind a column when she sees him talking to an old gentleman at the newspaper’s entrance. Jane feels immensely thankful for the old man, who has distracted him with a conversation that looks terribly dull. The two men say their goodbyes, and before Mr. Odinson can enter the newspaper’s offices, she runs into him in purpose, almost making him trip and fall. She takes advantage of the situation to return his possessions to his pocket, and he is none the wiser.

“I’m sorry, sir!” She exclaims, trying to sound truly regretful. “I am always running everywhere, always in a rush, and as my mother says: Never looking where I am going.” He listens politely, and even nods, but Jane notices that he is getting impatient. “Yes, sir, she always tells me: Sigyn, if you keep this up, you will cause an accident!”

She notices how his face changes at the mention of her recently adopted name. “Excuse me, Miss. Did you say your name was Sigyn?”

“Yes, that’s my name. An unusual one, I know, but my mother has always liked oddities.”

“I see. Would you be interested in a position in a respectable house, Miss?”

Jane looks up at him, surprised. She was expecting an interview, not a job offer.

“What kind of job?”

“As a female companion, to help me run the house and cure my solitude.”

Jane frowns. It sounds like the handsome man is looking for a wife without the need to stand at the church’s altar. Is he insinuating that he expects sexual favors from her as well?

“I assure you I don’t mean anything improper, I am only looking for a female companion because my house needs a feminine touch, something that would make it warmer.” He says, guessing her doubts. “And you will be compensated, of course.”

“You’re a generous man, sir. Yes, I think I would be very interested in the position.” Jane says, and although she still finds the job very odd, and she doen’t fully believe that he won’t try to proposition her sexually, she has an inkling that the streets are more dangerous than any household, even if that means giving up her independence and even offering up her body.

He smiles brightly and, maybe naively, she assures herself that everything will be fine.

+++

 

Standing in front of the Odinson mansion makes her feel small and even insignificant. She takes a deep breath, strangely affected by the place’s mysterious aura and for a moment, she has the feeling that the house is a living organism.

“This is a castle.” She mutters, not bothering to hide her awe.

Thor laughs, “A big house, a mansion if you must, but not a castle.”

“And you live alone?”

That question seems to give him pause, maybe the memory of his solitude agitates him. Finally, he nods. “Yes. It’s a house too big for only a person.”

“It’s a house too big for only two persons too.”

“Yes. Would you feel better if I tell you a maid will be assigned to you? You won’t be completely alone when you tire of my company, at least during the day. The help leaves for their houses when the night comes.”

Jane blinks, surprised. She has never had a maid, but it was silly of her to forget that men with big fortunes have maids, cooks and even stable boys. Of course, when she asked him if he lived alone, she meant family, and it seems like that’s exactly how he took it.

Thor guides her through the green gardens, following a path of grey stone that ends at the main door. She looks up at the door engravings: the coat of arms of the Odinson family, she assumes. She feels embarrassed by her dirty shoes and she’s afraid that she will drag the mud in with her, but Thor doesn’t seem preoccupied with such concerns and encourages her to enter the house.

The inside decoration is bathed in pure gold, and the lights that flirt through the windows make the walls shine. It’s too ostentatious, even tacky for Jane’s taste, but she doesn’t share her opinion, knowing that would be very impolite.

Thor guides her around the house, there are so many rooms than Jane starts to tire of the tour. He doesn’t seem to notice her boredom and continues to show her every corner of the mansion, sometimes stopping in front of the portrait of one of his ancestors to tell her their story. It’s in this way how she finds out that his parents died of influenza, and that his grandfather dined in the royal castle more than once.

He stops so many times in front of these portraits to share the tales of their glory, that it’s a surprise when Thor passes by the portrait of a handsome young man of green eyes and a mischievous smile - and doesn’t share any information about him. Jane stops in front of it and studies the outlines of his angular face.

“Who is he?” She wonders out loud.

Thor turns around and looks at the portrait with sad eyes. Jane wonders if he’s dead or if something horrible befell him. She immediately feels guilty for her curiosity.

“My brother, Loki Odinson.”

“Is he dead?”

He is startled by her question, and he stammers before feeling ready to answer. “No. He’s simply gone… he comes sometimes, always unannounced.”

She notices that talking about his brother bothers him. There’s a story he doesn’t want to tell, so she doesn’t insist.

“I have showed you every room in this floor, let’s go to the second one.”

“What about the stairs that go underground?”

“Every room in this house is at your disposal, except the basement.”

Jane lifts a brow, she shouldn’t be surprised that he’s keeping secrets. She smiles to hide her discomfort, “Do you keep a room full of corpses?”

He laughs, a little nervously, which doesn’t sit well with Jane. “I am not Bluebeard, Sigyn. No, there isn’t anything so sinister. Just old and delicate objects that belonged to my parents. There isn’t light down there and I don’t want you to trip and have an accident. Believe me, there isn’t anything of interest in the basement.”

She has the suspicion that there’s something of great interest in the basement, but it’s probably just what he said, and he just doesn’t want her to touch and break his parents’ belongings.

“Let’s go upstairs.” He says, turning around before she can even nod.

The next stop is her chambers, as big and ostentatious as the others. She feels excited and intimidated at the same time, after all, she has been sleeping in an abandoned cot below the open sky since she left the orphanage. That unease grows when Thor opens the wardrobe and shows her several beautiful dresses for her only use. She caresses them with her fingers, surprised by how soft they are. She has never worn fabrics so delicate and probably so expensive. Doubts plague her mind once again. This generosity can’t be free.

“They will be fixed to fit your body.” He says, smiling.

She looks at Thor, trying to find some evil purpose in his eyes, but he seems as honest and friendly as the first time she saw him.

“Thanks,” she answers, but what she really wants to ask is what he wants from her. What sacrifice does she have to do to deserve this turn of fate? Because she thinks she will give it gladly.

+++

Before dinner, Jane takes a bath. She rubs every pore of her skin, washing the dirt away. The process is therapeutic, she feels as if every blob of soap foam separates her further from the harsh streets. She dresses with the simplest dress from the wardrobe, a brown one that makes her look like a serious middle-class woman; an obvious improvement from her usual garments because they are incredibly comfortable.

When she sits at the table with Thor, the delicious food doesn’t catch her unprepared, she’s starting to understand that Thor Odinson lives in excesses. Maybe he only wants to share all his earthly possessions, but then, why doesn’t he just marry a woman of good standing? Someone refined, with a proper education and a well-kept beauty.

She allows him to talk unbidden, narrating war stories and myths with an uncontained excitement, as if he were the hero of every feat. She doesn’t really listen to him, too focused on the taste of her soup and the thoughts that battle inside her head: ‘Is this a blessing or a nightmare that hasn’t started yet?’

Thor finishes his story abruptly, rushing the heroic ending, and Jane looks at him with a raised brow. “You must be tired.” He says.

She isn’t, but she nods, because she doesn’t want him to mistake her negative answer as a sexual proposition. Although, she would do it if that’s what he requires of her. Fortunately, he doesn’t seem disappointed when she excuses herself and retires to her chambers.

In the solitude of her chambers, Jane looks at the luxurious furniture with awe. She still can’t believe her luck. On the bed, there’s a white nightgown – beautiful and delicate. Jane puts it on and looks at her reflection in the mirror. A stranger looks back at her. It has been only one day, but the bath and the dinner already make her look different, well cared and healthy. She touches her locks, finding them softer than ever. It’s an odd sensation, like she’s rediscovering her body. The fabric of the nightgown is very thin, and it adheres to her body as if it were a second skin.

A knock on the door wakes her up from her reverie. She looks at the door with a frown. It can only be Thor, and there’s only a reason a man would knock on the door of a woman’s chambers. She knew this could happen, but at the same time she finds herself surprised by it. She looks again at the mirror and combs her hair with her fingers to look more appealing. If she needs to earn her keep, she will.

“Come in.”

Thor opens the door and enters with a glass of milk in hand.

“I am sorry for the intrusion, I thought you would like a glass of milk before going to bed. It always helps me to rest.”

Jane blinks surprised by his unexpected words. She has gone to 'bed' so many times with an empty stomach, that the idea of drinking a glass of milk after a copious dinner sounds ridiculous to her ears, but she stills accept it.

He deposits the glass on the nightstand and says his goodbyes with a shy smile. He’s gone before she can thank him for it, and the door slams shut behind him. Jane remains petrified for several seconds, then, she grabs the glass of milk and gulps it down.

Jane lies on bed, and a few minutes later she starts to feel sleepy. She supposes that’s what a full belly does, or maybe it’s the springy mattress. Jane falls into Morpheus’ arms before she can end that thought.

 _And she dreams,_ with black hair locks, green eyes, cold lips and a pain that soon turns into pleasure. She moans in her dreams, wriggling against a hard body that pines her to the bed. She wakes drenched in sweat and with the phantom touch of a mouth against her neck, but there isn’t any mark or kiss bite to confirm her dreams.

The next day, she eats dinner again, she drinks her glass of milk again, she feels sleepy again and she dreams the same dream. She wakes up as tired as before, as confused as before and this time, she doesn’t dismiss her suspicions so easily. She finds dots of blood on her white sheets, but she doesn’t have any wound on her body that would explain them.

Two hours later, she has new clean sheets, but Jane doesn’t dare to ask her maid. That night, after retiring to her chambers, she throws the milk on a potted plant and leaves the empty glass on her nightstand. She lies on bed and pulls the sheets over her head, hiding under it. Through the white sheet, she can see the silhouettes of her nightstand, her wardrobe and the chair she uses to read.

At first, minutes pass and nothing happens. She tries to convince herself that her fears are unfounded, but she’s unable to sleep.

After one hour of painful anticipation, a secret door on the wall opens, and a long and lean figure enters. She takes a deep breath, surprised. It’s a man, but he doesn’t have Thor’s broad shoulders or his well-defined muscles. The mysterious man walks to her, and Jane, noticing how her heart beats in fear, feigns she’s asleep. With her eyes closed, she can feel how the man sits on the bed, very close to her, and uncovers her as if the sheets were the wrapping and she, the candy.

His smell awakes sensorial memories in her, and her fear gets mixed with an odd feeling of anticipation and even arousal. She tries not to move so he won’t realize that she’s awake. She hopes that he will do whatever he came to do and leave soon. Is he going to rape her? Has he done the same thing to her the nights before? _Who is he?_

Unconsciously, she pushes her legs together, but the lower part of her body doesn’t seem to interest him. In a second, Jane understands why. It’s not sexual pleasure he wants from her, _he wants her blood_. He jumps on her like a wild animal, piercing the skin in her neck with his fangs.

 _Fangs? Is he a devil? A monster? An animal?_ She can feel how he sucks on her neck, violently, like an addict tasting the most delicious nectar. His hands roam over her body and he cups one of her breasts. Jane opens her eyes, surprised by the intimate contact, but she doesn’t move. He has his eyes closed, and she doesn’t want to reveal that she’s awake. Will he kill her if he finds out she knows his secret? His thumb caresses her nipple over her thin white nightgown, apparently unconsciously, and she contains a gasp. He retracts his sharp fangs and licks the same spot, she feels her body shiver with a pleasure that embarrasses her. She should be trembling in fright, not pleasure. Is it part of his powers? A seduction that makes him as enticing as he is dangerous?

He disentangles from her body and Jane reminds herself to close her eyes and remain still, even when her body is screaming at her to move – to do what? She’s not sure. Part of her wants to push him away violently, another part of her wants to embrace him to feel his weight on her. She feels his presence and knows he’s still sitting beside her, but she doesn’t know what he’s doing. Suddenly, he opens her mouth and puts a finger on her tongue. He’s feeding her something liquid that takes like iron – blood, she realizes immediately, and forces herself not to gag. He closes her jaw delicately, and she swallows. Immediately, the remaining pain in her neck disappears, and she feels tempted to touch her skin to check if the marks of his attack are still there. She has the hunch that they’ve disappeared, he has cured her – and that’s why she always wakes up as if nothing had happened.

He moves away and leaves her chambers, as if he had never been there.

Jane waits several seconds, her breath erratic. Then, feeling safe in her solitude, she jumps out of the bed, opens the door and runs through the mansion’s halls as if the devil were following her. _He could be_ , she thinks. Jane looks around, almost expecting him to be lurking in the shadows.

She arrives at the main door without incidents and she gasps in surprise when she pushes the door and it opens wide. She isn’t a prisoner, just an abused guest. But isn’t that better than being a rat in the streets? She looks with apprehension at the thick mist that taints the garden outside, fearing it more keenly than the man who visits her every night.

How many nights did she wake up in the street with a drunk man rubbing against her? How many times did she think she was going to die of starvation? How many winters did she wake up shivering and with blue lips?

He only wants her blood, the streets ask for a lot more than that. And with that thought in mind, Jane closes the door and returns to bed. It is, after all, a very comfortable mattress.

+++

As she expected, he returns the next night, but this time, he isn’t alone. Jane doesn’t need to hide under the sheets or open her eyes to recognize his companion: It’s Thor. She tries to listen to what they’re saying.

“Does she taste differently?” Thor asks.

“Not really, sweeter maybe.”

“But it isn’t working.” Thor says, and his tone of voice indicates he requires clarification.

The voice that answers him sounds exasperated, “Yes, Thor. As you can see, I’m still _not_ human. Are you sure her name is Sigyn?”

“That’s what she said. And she couldn’t know we were looking for a Sigyn, I hadn’t even published the advertisement yet. She didn’t have a reason to lie. It’s fate, brother, she came to us because God sent her to us.”

“God? God doesn’t care for monsters like me.”

 _He’s his brother? He calls himself a monster?_ Jane tries to remember the face from the portrait, but she hadn’t really had a chance to look at the mysterious man so it’s difficult to make a comparison. Did Thor say his name? Yes, Loki Odinson. But what happened to him? Why is he a monster, instead of a man? Why does he drink blood directly from the vein?

“The witch didn’t say the curse would be broken with her blood. She said Sigyn would break it, maybe what you need is her love.”

“The love of a woman? Isn’t that a curse in itself?”

Thor chuckles, “Brother, it’s evident you’ve never fallen in love. It’s the greatest feeling…”

“Thor, I am afraid you’re mistaking love for sex, and of that, I’ve had plenty.” Jane can almost taste his arrogance in the air. “Love, at least what they understand as love, is just a beautiful excuse to trap us into marriage. I am not such a fool.”

Thor doesn’t answer, but Jane can imagine him shaking his head or even rolling his eyes. After a long silence, it’s Loki who talks again. “Now, I am hungry, so leave us alone.” She doesn’t hear any steps, so she supposes Thor hasn’t moved from his spot. “You don’t wish to witness it, do you? It’s not a pretty picture.”

“Maybe it would be safer for her if I stay here, in that case, if you lose control…”

“She’s not _that_ appetizing!” Loki complains, and Jane feels oddly insulted by his words. “And I’ve never lost control, I am not _fully_ an animal, you know?” He says, and there’s a sadness in his words that surprise Jane.

“You’re not partly animal either, brother.”

“Really? What am I then? Because humans don’t depend on fresh human blood.”

“An arrogant man who was unlucky enough to run into someone who could punish him for his arrogance.”

Loki snorts, “Do you think the witch would have been more lenient with you? You’re as arrogant as I am, possibly more, although you’re incredibly more foolish. Maybe she would’ve forgiven you because of it.”

Thor sighs, “You were just unlucky.” Both Thor and Jane wait for an answer, but it doesn’t come. “I will leave you to it, don’t forget to cure her afterwards.”

“I never do.” He mutters, drily.

After several seconds, Jane hears how the door closes. Thor is gone, and she’s alone with a monster. Once again, she should feel frightened, and she is, in part, but there’s also a feeling of anticipation, even desire, that she doesn’t want to feel.

Her bed creaks under his weight, and Jane takes a deep breath. She’s nervous. Stilling all her movements seems like a painful task, but she does it anyway. This time, a moan escapes her lips when he bites her neck, but it seems like he’s so focused on his thirst that he doesn’t hear her. He backs away for a second, only to adopt a more comfortable pose. He lies on top of her, opens the neckline of her nightgown and attacks her neck again.

She can feel her erect nipples against the fabric of his shirt and she decides she needs more friction. For a moment, she forgets that this isn’t a passionate embrace, that she is only a meal course for him, and she encircles his torso with her legs, pushing his whole body against her core. This time, it’s he who gasps in surprise.

“You’re awake.” He mutters.

She dares to open her eyes, and his confused green eyes inject her with a thrill that’s not dissimilar to a drug. They embolden her, so she kisses his blood-stained lips, tasting her own blood in his tongue. She’s surprised to notice that he doesn’t have fangs now, so she supposes he can retract them whenever he wants. He responds immediately, adding tongue and teeth to the dance of their lips.

He sits up, still caged between her legs, and looks at her as if she were inexplicable.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” He says, and it sounds like a threat. Jane doesn’t know how to answer, he’s probably right. This spell he has her under isn’t natural. He’s a monster, he’s a bloodsucker, why does he excite her in this way? Is this magic?

“Are you a magician?”

He laughs, “Don’t be absurd. I’m a vampire.”

He doesn’t waste more time, he grabs the hems of her nightgown and takes it off her. He’s surprisingly strong. Loki doesn’t move during several seconds, studying her form with hungry eyes. For the first time since this started, Jane feels insecure. She’s on her underpants, under a beautiful creature that seems to desire her blood as much as her body. Her doubts are momentarily silenced when he starts to caress every pore of her body with his hands, as a blind man trying to memorize her.

He pushes himself away from her and kneels down in front of the bed. She breathes erratically, not knowing what he plans to do to her. Suddenly, he sinks his fangs into her tight and starts feeding from the femoral artery. She moans, she doesn’t know if what she’s feeling is pain or pleasure. He looks up, surprised by the sounds she makes.

“Why are you so responsive?”

Jane can’t answer, her whole body is trembling, terribly unsatisfied. She tries to form words, “I need you to…”

He lifts a brow, “You’re an odd creature.” Loki creeps again on top of her, he bites his own hand and spills his blood drops on her tongue. “This will cure you.”

Jane nods and swallows her saliva mixed with his blood. He turns around, ready to leave, but Jane grabs his arm. “No.”

“No?” He asks, confused. “You don’t want the monster to leave, Sigyn?”

Her false name is a painful remainder of her own lies. She shakes her head, “We’re not done.”

He seems amused by her words, “I suppose we aren’t.” He mutters, lying on top of her once again. “What do you want?”

Jane doesn’t answer, but she does try to unbutton his pants. He’s already hard against her tight – that’s now miraculously cured. His pants seem to resist against her clumsy hands, and suddenly, he grabs her hands and, shaking his head, takes them over her head, pining them to the pillow. “Please,” she says in a whisper, afraid that he will reject her the pleasure.

“I don’t like to be rushed, darling.” He mutters. “Don’t move.” He orders. He stands up on his knees and unbuttons his own pants with ease. Jane doesn’t take her eyes off him, drunk with anticipation. He smiles with self-confidence, and the sight of his amused face makes her even more excited.

She’s so lost in his mischievous eyes that she’s taken by surprise when he enters her, slowly. Too slowly. She pants, feeling how her whole body clenches around him, welcoming him without hesitance. She tries to embrace him, but Loki forces her hands again against the pillow. She is his prisoner now, but she doesn’t complain. He starts to move, at first excruciatingly slow, but deliciously fast during the last thrusts. They climax almost at the same time, him spilling inside of her, and they come down from their high with their bodies still entwined.

With a deep sigh, Loki rolls out of her and lies on his back beside her. He looks up at the celling and doesn’t move. Jane blinks surprised by what she has just done. She isn’t a naïve girl, she isn’t inexperienced, she has sold her body in the past, she has had sex only to cure her sadness or boredom, but it’s the first time that she has been consumed by this kind of passion. Why him? He’s a stranger, not even a human.

“Well, I feel used.” _He_ mutters.

Jane turns on her side to look at him. “ _You_ feel used? You’re humorous, indeed.”

He smiles, which infuriates her, “How long have you known?”

“Since yesterday.”

“And you didn’t run away screaming?”

“I am not so easily scared, I thought we could take advantage of each other. You want my blood and I want…”

“My body?” He asks, amused smile still in place.

She rolls her eyes, “I want a good life, three meals a day, a comfortable bed, clean clothes.”

“You don’t ask for much.” Loki answers, and surprisingly, there isn’t sarcasm in his tone.

“It is very much for me.” She says.

“That doesn’t explain your bout of passion.”

“Your powers have enchanted me.”

“My powers?” He laughs, “My only powers are retractable fangs, an allergy to the sun and an uncommonly pale skin. This is all you, dear.”

Jane studies him, trying to find something in him that would explain her odd response. He’s handsome, yes, but not more than Thor, and she had felt this inexplicable chemistry since the first day he came to her in the night.

“I can’t explain it.”

“Do you even know who I am?” Loki asks.

“Loki Odinson.” She says firmly, holding his stare. He raises both eyebrows in surprise, so she adds. “I saw your portrait.”

“Clever girl,” He says with a long smile as he stands up and starts dressing. Jane studies all his movements, admiring him as if he were a moving portrait. He is beautiful. Jane licks her lips, the memories of what they have shared makes her skin tingle.

“Do you live in the basement?” She suddenly asks.

While buttoning his shirt, he looks at her with confusion. “How do you know?”

“It’s the only room in the house that is forbidden to me.” She explains.  “Can I visit you there?”

Loki frowns, “Why aren’t you scared of me, Sigyn? You know what I am. You know what I need from you.”

“I’ve met worse monsters.” She says, the streets are full of them.

She holds his intense stare during several seconds, then he simply says: “I will come back tomorrow.”

**Author's Note:**

> It may continue? I have something in mind for a sequel but I really don't know if I will have the time to write it.


End file.
